TITLE: The Conversation by the Carillon
SPOILER WARNING: Very, very minor spoiler for Momento Mori
RATING: PG, mostly for theme rather than any specific language or action.
CONTENT WARNING: None
CLASSIFICATION: V,A; M/S Friendship
SUMMARY: This conversation occurs in the middle of my story SEVEN DAYS
IN NOVEMBER; it is the literary equivalent of an outtake. It could not
be included in SDiN for various reasons, all of which remain sound;
however, the Blessed Saint Scully appeared to me in a dream and insisted
that this story also needed to be told. It does not stand alone very
well, but on the other hand, it isn't very long.
THE CONVERSATION BY THE CARILLON - An Outtake from SEVEN DAYS IN NOVEMBER
by Brandon D. Ray
Dana Scully scuffed through the snow, hands stuffed in her pockets for
warmth, keeping quiet company with her troubled partner as he marched
round and round the carillon at Arlington National Cemetery. She knew
that he would talk to her when he was ready, and as always, she would be
there for him. Just as he was always there for her.
On a nearby park bench sat her brother Bill and his friend, Jiggs
Casey. From the looks Jiggs and Bill were casting in their direction,
she knew that they were talking about her and Mulder, but she didn't
care. She no longer had time for conventionalities and proprieties.
Finally, Mulder stopped walking, and turned to face her. "You know," he
said in a deceptively calm voice, "I really believed it when I told you
the truth would save us." She nodded silently, not daring to speak, not
wanting to interrupt. After a moment of silence, he went on, "I really
thought that if we could just find the truth, all would be well in the
end."
"The truth shall make you free, Mulder," she ventured quietly.
He nodded sharply. "I've wanted to believe that, Scully," he replied.
"I've lived by that; it's been my religion." His eyes fell on the gold
chain around her neck, and he slipped his fingers under it and gently
pulled the cross from beneath her coat. "Like this is for you." He
dropped his hand back to his side.
"The truth still matters, Mulder," she told him earnestly, and reached
up and lightly caressed his cheek. "Perhaps now more than ever."
He hesitated, then said, "You do know that we're going to die, don't you?"
Scully felt something catch in her throat, and her vision blurred
slightly. Well, at least it was out in the open. She nodded quietly.
"I know. I've known that since Monday evening." Two days ago. Was it
really only two days? "But the moment of death is when the truth
matters most of all."
"I'll never lie to you again, Scully."
"And I'll never lie to you, Mulder."
They stood looking into each other's eyes for a moment; then Mulder's
melancholy smile changed to his patented smirk, and a twinkle entered
his eyes. "You know," he said, "if we were actors in a movie, we would
now find a bed and spend one last night locked in the throws of grand
passion before going out to face our doom."
Scully laughed at the image, and sniffled slightly. "That's a very
romantic thought," she said. "But where would Bill sleep?"
"He could sit up in the lobby," Mulder said. Then he shook his head,
and was suddenly serious again. "But we don't need that, Scully.
That's not us. That's not real. If we did that, we would not be who we
are." His eyes flicked up from her face past her shoulder. "It looks
like the summit conference is over," he said.
Scully turned to see Jiggs Casey walking away down the hill. Her
brother Bill stood a few feet from the bench the two men had been
sitting on, watching his friend leave, and looking as if his heart was
about to break.
"Let's go," she said to her partner. "We've still got some work to do."
Fini